In My Dreams
by Gabriel Gatsby
Summary: Um di dum


"It is for you, mon brave loup."

Something tightens in Louis' chest as he accepts the clean, white envelope from his mother. Turning it over in his hands, he runs the soft pads of his fingertips over the straight edges and sharp corners of the folded paper. On the front, in neat, curling letters, is his name.

Glancing up, he looks to where his parents sit side-by-side on the couch opposite, twin expressions of strained hopefulness plastered across their features. A pang of guilt wracks him from within to see their fragile smiles, knowing that he will not – once again – be able to give them what they so desperately long for.

…That no matter how many times he talks about it, or days he spends alone – no renowned therapist, patient friend, doting mother or _thoughtful gift_ will ever be enough to return to him what he lost. To return to them the son they used to know.

"Go on, open it," she urges, and something about how very close to _breaking_ she sounds in that moment gives him the motivation to smile back. It's a small, thin-lipped thing – nothing like the wild abandon he used to wear so proudly – but it's there.

He wants to protest – to stay, indefinitely, the inevitable moment. The moment their faces fall, as another attempt fails, and their dream of normality becomes a little more distant.

He doesn't, though. No point.

Instead, he turns the envelope over once more and slips a finger beneath the triangular fold on the back. Intently aware of their eyes on him, he tenses slightly as the sound of tearing paper cuts through the suspense holding them all in place.

Almost mechanically, he removes the contents and stares down at it.

 _PLOVDIV, BULGARIA,_ it reads. A small, green slip of card. He had only seen one like it once before, in Muggle Studies at Hogwarts.

"A muggle aeroplane ticket?"

"Oui, to stay with your oncle!" his mother declares, happily. Looking up, he glances between her pleased grin and his father's hopeful smile, before staring back down at the paper in his hands. It's unremarkable, save for the prominent black lettering on the front, but it represents something so much greater.

 _An escape._

He feels tears well up from within as, for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile finds its way onto his face. Jumping up from his seat, he flings his arms around both his parents' necks, a great wash of relief, gratitude and love crashing over him.

"Thank you Maman! Papa!" he almost sobs, holding them tight. His mother laughs, a sound of sheer relief, and his father pats him on the back. Louis clutches the small slip of card.

 _An escape._

* * *

Aside from the initial, terrifying realisation that the great, hulking contraption they call an _aeroplane_ was actually leaving the ground, the journey to Bulgaria was largely uneventful. A sandy-haired, twenty-something-looking man tried to make conversation, but Louis just smiled and stared out of the little window. Somehow, he couldn't take his eyes off the tiny, patchwork world, stretched out far below. He had never thought before that something muggle-made could be so _magical,_ but you could never get this high up on a broom, or even in his grandfather's flying car. Even the clouds were just little wisps, beneath their wings.

A little bit later, a lady came around with offers of coffee, tea, and other muggle condiments, but Louis just shook his head, never taking his eyes away from the window.

Finally, some three and a half hours later, he stepped off the plane in Romania.

Taking one last, nervous look over his shoulder at the huge, bird-like structure – still slightly incredulous that it left the ground at all – he falls in-line with the rest of the passengers heading towards the luggage bays.

After a short wait, and even more sets of revolving doors, he soon finds his way into the white-walled arrivals area. Great windows down one side of the building let sunlight come streaming through, and for a few moments he just blinks as his eyes adjust.

He's still squinting, when suddenly something moves in front of the light shining directly over his face, and a somewhat-familiar voice greets him.

"Louis!"

Looking up, he finds the grizzly face of his Uncle Charlie smiling down at him.

"You must be tired after your trip. I have a rental truck waiting outside that'll get us back to the sanctuary," he offers, and Louis manages a small smile, grateful to his uncle for not making a fuss, and to his parents for thinking to call ahead and warn him.

He follows Charlie out into the sun, baggage in tow, and together they make their way to the truck in the muggle car park. Charlie says he hasn't driven before, but after the three hours or so it took him to get here, he thinks he has it down okay.

True enough, the journey to the sanctuary is made without incident. Charlie makes small talk, after they've set off

* * *

 _Written for: 'The Quiddich League Fanfiction Competition'. Prompts: (character) Louis Weasley, (song) Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift, (nursery rhyme) Frere Jacques_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._


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